


Never Alone

by starryclimes (veritasapientia)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Victor Nikiforov, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Medal Kissing, Sad Katsuki Yuuri, VictUuri, Yuuri and Victor just trying to maintain status quo, and training under Yakov instead, from the hospital, yoibb17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritasapientia/pseuds/starryclimes
Summary: Victor is trying to cope with coaching and missing out on his last season from an injury. Yuuri is trying to make Victor proud and swallowing his hopes and dreams of competing with Victor. Plus, both of them are still trying to maintain their relationship and enjoy their engagement.





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone else know people who make wedding books? 
> 
> I'm so sorry Victor!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. It was an idea created by the lovely Rymyanna, that I tried to put into words for the Yuri!!!onIceBigBang2017. Her art is amazing!

The noise was horrible. Something Victor would never forget - as the pain fogged his senses. The blurred shapes as they ran out to him. The way he couldn’t stand up. No, he thought, desperately. It wasn’t to be.

oOo

It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was most likely, with age and circumstances, the end of Victor’s career. Yuuri tried not to think of that as he held Victor’s hand in his own. Victor just stared at the ceiling.

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri started, but Victor shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly.

They can hear Yakov talking to the doctor outside. It is hushed, quieter than Yuuri has ever heard Yakov speak, and he knows that it isn’t a good sign.

He can see the blond head belonging to Yuri bobbing outside in the hallway. Yuuri knows that he’s worried. Everyone’s worried.

Victor just stares. He finally speaks, his eyes clear, that small smile on his face, his coach voice on, “Yuuri, you need to go home and get some rest. Tomorrow is your long program.” Yuuri is going to protest like he does all the time with Victor’s dictations, torn between being a concerned fiancé and his own competitive streak. “Can’t you listen to your coach?” Victor’s face is kind, not betraying a hint of pain, “just this once?”. Yuuri can feel the light squeeze of Victor’s hand with the words.

“It will be ok, Yuuri.”

Yuuri doesn’t know if it’s for Yuuri’s benefit or for Victor’s, this false lie.

Yuuri feels like the worst person in the world as he walks out of the room with the last thing he sees is his future groom cover his face with his arm.

He knows Victor’s crying. He knows Victor doesn’t want him to know. He wants to comfort him. Instead, he does for the first time as his coach says, and walks to his hotel.

oOo

Yakov’s Russian is low, quiet, paternal. Yuuri hovers behind the door listening to this rare unknown world. He has only seen the Yakov that exists in the rink. Demanding, angry, and constantly flummoxed and annoyed by Victor’s antics. Yuuri knows that deep down it is a display. Victor and Yakov have been together for so long it has become a dance and routine, and any divergence is a sign of something wrong.

So to hear this was new.

New and telling.

Victor’s Russian in return is quiet, heartbreaking. It speaks of tears and resignation. Like a child crying to their parent. Yuuri wonders if Yakov has been the only parental figure in Victor’s life, but he realizes, as Lilia hovers outside the room, that it might be a false assumption. He clutches the cold metal in his pocket. He was going to show it to Victor-to have him kiss it. But suddenly that seems childish, stupid, something Victor said when he wasn’t injured. Now Yuuri is torn from ever knowing if he would have achieved the metal if Victor had finished skating. It would never be determined. He grits his teeth and feels the metal warm from his grasp.

Yakov says something and comes to the door. He looks silently at Yuuri and nods, then looks at Lilia. There is unspoken communication there, something Yuuri is jealous of but knows he and Victor do the same thing on occasion; something Yuri has always complained about.

He walks into the room. Victor is staring at the ceiling. A book is at the bedside. Flowers dwarf him. So many well wishes. So many beautiful bouquets and gifts that will never bring back a long program to compete for the placement in the Grand Prix.

“Hey, baby,” Yuuri says gently, leaning forward to kiss his fiancé. He can feel Victor stiffen and pull away. Yuuri feels tears start, but pulls away himself to hide them and instead sits in the chair. Victor shifts in bed to push himself up.

“Yuuri,” his voice is a gravelly whisper teetering on the edge of tears, his sky blue eyes rimmed in red, “I’m sorry.”

Yuuri fiddles with a stray thread on his pants.

“I’m sorry, please come here.”

Yuuri can’t look up. He nods at the apology, he’s still second guessing himself. Maybe he is the worst fiancé of the year. Maybe life. Maybe the metal that sits like a hot coal in his pocket should be for the greatest loser in engagement.

He barely meets Victor’s eyes, but when the pain is so evident once he meets them, he can’t resist. It pushes past his anxiety and worry. He hugs Victor close. Victor puffs out and laughs softly. “I am so proud.”

Tears come then, and Yuuri lets them flow onto Victor’s hospital gown and soak the ugly faded blue material. “I…I…thought of you…and what we did…and I feel like…I don’t deserve it.”

Victor’s voice is calm, always so calm, like a rock in the tempest of Yuuri’s sea of worries. “Don’t deserve it? If anyone deserved that metal, it was you.”

Yuuri sobs out, “I brought it, so that you would kiss it.” It sounds as childish as he fears it would.

“Oh?” Victor pulls back to toss his hair. “Oh, my Yuuri has brought me a gold medal?”

Yuuri leans back, knowing he looks disgusting, probably snotty and tear-stained. He grabs the tissues by Victor’s bed to blow his nose, shamefully in public, and wipes his eyes.

Victor is just sitting there, hiding behind a mask of expression all too familiar from when they first met. The one Yuuri realized later meant he was thinking, seeing life like a giant chess board. Yuuri cannot help the pull to kiss Victor’s cheek. He lets it linger, and then pulls slightly away to kiss small kisses down where he chastely touches his lips to Victor’s. Victor kisses back slowly and tilts his head until they are melded, molded together like it was meant to be. Disengaging from the kiss, Yuuri touches his forehead to Victor’s.

“I wouldn’t have won it if you were there.” It was supposed to be an unspoken sentiment, but it comes out like vomit from Yuuri’s mouth, spewing his uncertainty.

“So I would win a personal best. Outstrip your final score in the long skate, and in the end, outrank you to win that metal? To then do the same in the Grand Prix?”

Victor was looking at Yuuri quite seriously.

“It rankles you know, that you are so good. I thought of you as my true competition. Something to strive for…” Victor’s eyes are clear and bright. It makes Yuuri want to look away, but this is so wild in revelation, he feels paralyzed.

“I might have gotten silver. I might not have medaled. Who knows?” Victor says with that same calm voice he has been using.

Yuuri wants to protest. Wants to cover Victor’s point counting and struggles.

“You are my student. You won a gold medal. I am the proudest coach. Let me kiss your metal, Yuuri.”

Trembling, Yuuri reaches into his pocket to pull out the shiny gold object nesting in the ribbon attached to it. He pulls it up to a heart shape, and Victor, his eyes not closing, never leaving Yuuri’s eyes, brings it to his lips and kisses it.

Yuuri knows.

It’s over now.

It will be the last time Victor will kiss a gold medal.

oOo

Yuuri walks through the small path leading from the apartment to the sidewalk on the way to the rink to practice.

Victor is on Facetime. His blue eyes seem dulled by the hospital’s overhead lights. Their dim buzzing neon blue draining Victor’s vitality. Not enough vitality to stop Yuuri from getting a lecture.

“You must go practice, and I want to see the turns sharper on the…”

Yuuri protested, “Vitya, I have so much time until the Grand Prix. I want to go see you instead.”

Victor’s hand comes up to push back his silver bangs. Yuuri wants to run his fingers through their softness, try to tuck them behind Victor’s ears, maybe then lean in to run his lips on that soft flushed tip, cup his jaw, and…

“Yuuri, you’re not listening to me.”

Uh, shoot. Yuuri had it bad. “Sorry, Victor.” He said quietly, “I just miss you. A lot.” The last words come out after a pause.

Victor’s eyes widen and then as he leans back he sighs. “ I didn’t realize coaching from long distance would be this hard.”

Yuuri lets out an incredulous noise.

“Well, how am I suppose to kiss you when you are not paying attention.” It’s mischievous and makes Yuuri laugh and heart gladden that Victor is feeling good enough to joke.

“Is that what that is? I thought you just liked me.” The banter still makes Yuuri’s heart race, and the quiet fear that Victor was going to say one day that he didn’t like Yuuri and wanted him to go away never seemed to leave.

“Oh,” Victor’s voice purred, “I like you just fine.” He goes quiet and seems to be peeking around. “I can’t wait to get home.” He whispered as if he and Yuuri were fast friends in grade school, and everything was whispered behind cupped hands. “I’m going to have a lot of fun.”

Yuuri’s body tightens. He’s been so horny it’s been crazy. When you have a doting fiancé and then suddenly nothing, it was like going back to all those days pining for something far away, imaginary, and non-existent. Back then it was easy to lose himself into skating. Warding off all those vague feelings or worries that he didn’t like people the way others seemed to.

“Please do.” It comes out embarrassingly breathless, and Yuuri gives a slight shriek of surprise as he realizes he almost ran into the gate at the end of the path.

“Oh my, that sounds promising.” He can hear his fiance’s voice tinny and far away as he tries to figure out where he was going next.

“Ha ha ha.” Yuuri says, fishing out his earplugs, so he could hear Victor better and somewhat pay attention to where he was walking.

“I don’t know. My coach is pretty strict. He might have me on the ice constantly. Then what will I do?” Yuuri fake pouts, and smirks at Victor’s heart shaped smile and large eyes.

“On the ice? Every day.” At that Yuuri laughs. He can’t stop for a whole block. He stumbles as he misses the crack in the sidewalk.

Victor suddenly gets serious. “Yuuri, call me at the rink. I want to you pay attention to where you are going.”

Ah, even things like this make Yuuri’s heart clench. Victor cared for him so much and it was so sweet. Then, at the same time, he could be walking next to Yuuri and not have to worry as much.

Victor wouldn’t be walking for awhile.

Yuuri tries not to think about that. “Ok, ok. I’m going.”

“Good.” Victor sounds satisfied as they hang up.

Yuuri realizes he didn’t get to ask about Victor’s day. He makes a mental note to ask at the rink.

But he doesn’t. Victor’s demands puts him through his paces, and actually, without Victor there, Yuuri overworks himself. If he pushes himself to the limit he could sleep better at night.

He comes off the ice exhausted, and the shower and bath can not be hot enough. He slowly crawls into his very empty feeling bed and stares at the glass lights hanging above.

“Hey, baby.” He texts. “I’m home. Our bed is too big without you.”

Victor texts back, “Ah!!! Yuuri, you said it’s our bed!”

Yuuri grins, and rolls to his side. The Facetime request comes up and he smiles softly at the handsome face that appears.

You think you two would get sick of each other by now. The cynical voice of Yuri P. floats through Yuuri’s head.

Victor looks like he is in pain. He is faking though it with a smile that hurts Yuuri’s heart. Victor still has a hard time ridding himself of that fake visage he always projects. Yuuri can see it now.

“Hey handsome, “ Yuuri murmurs. He goes right into what he wants to say. The exhaustion of the rink is still there, but his body seems to want more suddenly, as if it’s forgetting all the skating it went through. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Victor’s eyes widen. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri grins and sets the phone down where Victor can have the best vantage.

Yuuri still feels self-conscious when he does this, but it is as if the fear is overridden by the look that Victor gives him. The smoldering blue eyes give him life and seem to urge him on, the look pushing him past his anxiety.

Thank God for modern technology.

He finally hears, through the pull of sleep, “Yuuri. You are so beautiful. You are my loveliest of lovelies. My beautiful one. How I adore you.”

It’s like reading through the valentines that littered stores in Detroit in February. Never in his life did he think he would get to hear those thoughts told to him. “Mm…” He says, “Good.”

It is ridiculous, he thinks later. Of all things to say, and he doesn’t ask Victor about his day once more, is the constant beratement when he wakes up. He hears a soft good night vaguely. Victor has the loveliest voice, Yuuri thinks contentedly. We’ll get married and I will get to hear it every night. He smiles.

oOo

The morning sun streams in through the crack. Yuuri sits up suddenly, feeling the drool caked on his face. He feels so much better.

Argh, he flops back with a groan. How embarrassing! How stupid. He’s berating himself, arm flung over his head, when he hears his phone ping with a skype notification. It’s Victor.

Yuuri’s face gets red. They are engaged, he tells himself. He needs to be braver about this stuff. He answers and tries to smile.

Victor tries not laugh at the image. His fiancé’s hair is every which way, his face groggy from sleep, and the crust of drool is on one side. He is very glad one of them had good sleep, and his fondness comes out with his voice. “Good morning sleeping beauty.”

Yuuri is this lovely shade of red and it makes Victor want to do very wicked things.

He can’t do those things, he understands that, but the very dirty thoughts to go away.

Of course, he’s wanted to do those things to Yuuri since the beginning, since he arrived in Hatetsu. “Hmm…looks like you got some good sleep.”

Yuuri is pulling the sheets up all embarrassed like, but the small grin makes Victor happy. Life is pretty boring when all you have is books, flowers to stare at (blue roses seemed to be a popular choice, and Victor loved them the most, but after a while, they seemed dull compared to his fiance’s company) and cards in all languages.

“I’m coming to the hospital today!” Yuuri seems pretty defiant. He’s setting his glasses on his face looking determined.

“Of course.” Victor grins. He knows Yuuri hasn’t been doing well lately. He thought if he pushed him in his skating, that he would fare better, but it seemed to make Yuuri just lovesick. He knew the feeling. He thought if he kept Yuuri busy and fulfilled, then Victor would work harder on getting better too, but it had just made him more lovesick. “I look forward to it.”

He leans back after the call ends, and he tries valiantly to get Yuuri to take him into the shower with him, but with no results, and sighs.

The nurses and doctor had said six months. Six months was half a year, and in skating terms, that was a whole season. Then that didn’t even include rehab.

He was done skating. Victor thought when he had gone to Hatestu that he had needed a break. He had needed to find his way back to something he loved for his life, but that had been his choice. This time there was no choice.

Yakov had warned him, “You can never come back.’

Maybe it had been an omen.

Victor shakes that notion off. Maybe it was a way to focus on coaching. Yuuri had years left. Even though people considered a 24-year-old, and soon to be 25-year-old too old in competitive skating, Yuuri still had many gold medals ahead.

The book next to him lays open, and he pulls it to him reluctantly. He tries not to count the clock. He tries not to be impatient. It is like when he hadn’t wanted to go to skating practice. He works on his French, and starts into Balzac with the gusto that he would apply to skating at 16.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He wakes to feel a warm hand on his own. He wonders who it is, but the thumb runs gently along his hand. Not a friend he realizes he opens his eyes with a smile.

A smile is returned to him, those dark eyes glinting and filled with an emotion Victor had never known he craved. “Good morning Vitya.” He squeezes the hand back. “How are you?”

Victor sees that his book has been moved off of him onto the nightstand, a marker placed in it.

Victor’s scared. He wants to tell this wonderful man everything he is feeling. Things he tries not to and foolishly thinks he shouldn’t feel. The terrors, the fears almost paralyze him, and all his face wants to do is smile and lie. It’s overwhelming - the nurses, the doctors, or the many friends he didn’t realize he really had, and all the people who genuinely cared, and had taken time out of their busy worldwide schedules to come and see him. He can feel his throat closing up. “Fine.” He wants to say. “I’m fine. Why aren’t you practicing. Why are you here.” But he would break his Yuuri’s heart, he had earlier this year. He wants to push Yuuri far far away, but at the same time he wants him so close.

Victor closes his eyes. “Are you tired?” he hears his fiance’s soft tenor.

He was. But it was the pain, the nurse had explained. The constant pain drained a person. “Yes.” He says, “I’m in pain too.” It sounds whiny, like Yuri on a bad day. “I mean…” but Yuuri just squeezes his hand. Everything dumps out. He can’t stop talking. It’s like when he was very young, and the train was coming around the track too fast, and it was watching something so horrific, but he couldn’t stop watching knowing it was doomed.

Yuuri doesn’t react like he thought he would, his perfect idol falling apart in front of him. He hears instead, “Well, that is to be expected. There is no shame in that.”

He opens his eyes to see Yuuri lean to him, eyes filled with tears, lips trembling. “My brave, brave Vitya.” Victor doesn’t feel brave, but Yuuri’s words make him believe it. The kiss is light, lovely, like a benediction, his forehead tingles, and he moves to touch it,when those plump beautiful lips and tongue touch his own, and it is like a dam breaks loose in another way.

His hips jar and scream at the extra weight in the bed, the movement filling his body with aches, but the hot lips against his own, pulling him apart, and sucking on his tongue, and filling his empty heart made up for it. Making out like teenager wasn’t on his list of things to do today, but he would take it. Take it for all those years of not making out because he always needed to make sure his skating schedule was met.

They finally part just to breathe, and Victor can feel his real smile fill his face. Yuuri sticks his still cold nose into Victor’s neck, and it makes a warm welling in Victor’s heart.

Yuuri makes no move to leave him. Victor feels silly, but he shows Yuuri what he has been doing. The time schedules, the constant need to fill time logically, to keep him sane. There is an understanding in Yuuri eyes instead of the pity that fills his friends when they see him checking his schedule to make sure it is going well and he’s completeing his goals.

“What’s this?”

It is after lunch, the pathetic remains of it looking sad on the lifeless beige tray. Yuuri is pushing away the lunch tray when he spots the spiral bound book down below Victor’s stack of magazines. They are bridal magazines, but Yuuri doesn’t question it. He sees those large eyes get larger, and a small smile come onto his fiance’s face. The binder is something Victor had been working on, but he squirmed inside. Maybe Yuuri would think it stupid.

“It’s my wedding book.” Victor says, taking it, and Yuuri resumes resting his head on Victor’s shoulder. Like they can’t stop touching each other.

“Oh.” Yuuri pauses over the first two pages. They were tuxedo ideas, and color schemes and flowers. Cut out from magazines and pasted in. Yuuri knew, from Phichit that there were apps that let you snip and paste and make boards and idea collections, but in a way this seemed more intimate, cutting out and collages so it could be touched, and take time. Time was the thing Yuuri got the most. “Black?” He murmured over one of the tuxes.

Victor hummed. “For me.”

“White?” Yuuri moved his finger over it. He likes the cut and color.

“For you.” Victor’s hand covers Yuuri’s hand.

“Not matching?” Yuuri says quietly. This is not his forte. This was very much Victor. Victor who in another world could fashion design or interior design with gusto.

Victor sighed slightly. “ I thought about it. But…” Yuuri listens to his fiancé go on, about everything.

They turn through the pages, and Yuuri gives his imput. It was fun to think about it. It had seemed so faraway but this made it seem real. A real wedding, with real things. “What about peonies? In Japan they are considered good for marriage.” He can feel a flush come over his face, but he sees Victor jot a note on one of the pages in his very precise Cyrillic hand writing. “You should see my cursive.” When Yuuri had complimented it once, ‘It is as bad as Yurio’s attitude.”

“Can we delay it?”

Yuuri’s thoughts and heart freeze.

“What?” He croaks out. Nononononono his mind is running.

For something that had started like joke and yet had been very serious for Yuuri, these words seemed like a death knell.

Victor is looking at him with all seriousness.

Victor didn’t want him.That was ridiculous. He was delaying their wedding, that’s all.

Yuuri looks down at his hands. “You still want to marry me, right?” It comes out softly. He can see his hands swimming in front of his eyes. Panic was setting in.

“How could you say that?” Victor looked shocked. He let the book set down with a wince and reached for Yuuri’s hands. “Yuuri, look at me.”

Large brown eyes, the depths reminded of Victor’s of the creeks in the country estate during summer, filled with golden and amber hues. “I will always want to marry you.” He says it with all the confidence he can imbue the words with.

Yuuri tucked himself into Victor’s arms, and they hug. The words are whispered by Victor’s ear, and he is reminded of Yuuri before every performance, desperately hanging on to truth and confidence instead of the lies that his anxiety told him. “Please only want to marry me.”

Who else would Victor marry?

There was no one.

“Of course. You are my Yuuri. You are my future husband. There is no one else.”

He could only kiss that beautiful shell of an ear, ignoring once again the pain in his hips.

“I know.” It’s said so sadly, and trembling. Yuuri fighting his own fears.

“So brave.” Victor says quietly.

Yuuri stills at that. He pushes away. “Brave to marry you! You are…”

Victor stops him with a finger against those plush lips. “Nonono. You misunderstand me my love. I am proud you are fighting your worries.”

Yuuri flushes and his eyes wander away. He stares at their hands entwined. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Victor says with a smile. He tucks up Yuuri’s chin, and he sees a small smile come back on his face. He rubs his thumb against those lips, and Yuuri plays into it, his pink tongue darting playfully at the finger.

“Oh. God.” The disgust is palpable. They both turn to see Yuri standing in the doorway. “Are you two serious? Victor you have your leg in a sling!”

Victor just grinned, “Yurio!”

“Not my name.” the teenager huffs. He brings a bag to Victor. “I didn’t want them starving you.”

Yuuri says, “That’s so nice!”

Yuri just stares him down. “I see you practicing constantly, what do you think this is, what happens if you push yourself too hard?”

Victor is watching Yuuri now. Yuuri is turning a shade of red. “I’m just getting ready for the Grand Prix.”

“Katsudon. The Grand Prix isn’t for a month.”

Yuri snorts at Yuuri’s expression and sits in one of the guest chairs. “Ok. Lets get this over.” He is holding a bag of cards. Yuuri just stares as he pulls out one by one, and reads them to Victor.

“You know,” Victor taps his chin thoughtfully. “I can read still.”

“Whatever old man.”

“What do you mean Yuuri’s practicing? Of course, I have him practicing.”

Yuri’s face could put lemons to shame. “Yeah, he’s not just only doing that, he is doing more. He just doesn’t tell you how much.”

Yuuri is feeling the world slide and pitch, and he wants to disappear. Maybe he could just go back to bed and start this all over again.

Victor looks at him with the coach look, the one that means that Yuuri’s in trouble. Yuuri feels the defiance flood in, “I just want to be good this season. Better. End it well.”

Without you. Yuuri doesn’t come out and say it though.

Victor smiles, and Yuri sticks out his tongue at the display, “Gross.”

“You will be. I know you will. I’ll be there - even if it’s not physically. I will be there through everything we have gone through, watching, and waiting for my Yuuri to return.“

oOo

Yuuri breathes deep as he enters the rink edge.

He tries to shut out the noise triumphant, announcers with the scores, the roar of the crowd as they are cheering for their favorite, and the polite clapping for the scores themselves. His headphones are out, sitting by his personal effects.

He ignores Yuri who is doing his best to return the favor. Yuuri realizes that like some things in life, Yuri will be forever a returning item. A thing lost and then found, ever following, ever necessary, and like a moon in the orbit of a planet, will wax and wane and never go away.

Victor is far away. It is like Rosteldom all over again, but Yuuri is somehow more confident, as if the burning talisman of love had been given to him and he could go forth victorious.

Yakov is hunched in the corner, watching him.

He says nothing as he moves to stand by him.

“Let them know that you are not alone,” Yakov says quietly. There are other things left unsaid, Victor would be proud. Victor is here in spirit.

Yuuri’s eyes grow hard as he prepares himself. He steps onto the ice, as he has done for years and years, smiles and raises his arms outwards in a brilliant display as his name is announced overhead. The world fades, and the anxiety creeps in at the edges. But Yuuri briefly closes his eyes to hide away from this world of white, glaring lights, and ice below. Victor he thinks opening them up to this world, this world he will leave soon, never look away, look only at me.

Victor sits in the bed, the dull throbbing making him crave pain medicine, and he ignores it. Ignores it favor to watch his student in the middle of the rink, waiting for the music and then becoming one with it.

There is a fierce bitterness that rides under his skin. Something that whispers, You should be there. Something that tells him tales of woe, of finally competing against his beloved. To fill his dreams, and to finalize Victor’s.

There is no such thing, Victor reminds himself, his stomach churning in the strange feelings of anger, sadness, and loss.

The crowd roars as Yuuri completes his jump, and it is as if Yuuri is burning too bright, too bright against the world, riding some sort of fire that goads him on and on. As the program unfolds, the audience is wild with approval and awed at the same time.

Victor’s feels the tears before he knows he is crying, the warmth dripping down and onto his tablet as Yuuri bows with flowers and stuffed animals and items thrown along with them.

Victor watches through the blurriness as Yuuri picks up a bouquet of blue roses and a katsudon plushie. Yuuri is shocked as he is greeted with a blue rose crown at the edge of the rink, before he goes to sit with Yakov in the kiss and cry. Yuuri grins for real in the cameras waving a bit. Mouthes ‘I love you’ in English at them. Victor rubs away the tears getting in the way of him watching this spectacle.

His heart burns. It is a wonderful feeling and he lets it overtake him. The sadness and pain seems to be melted away from its flame.

Yuuri’s scores come in, and Victor is yelling and Yuuri’s eyes are filled with tears, as he waves and then hugs an astonished Yakov.

Victor falls back into his pillow, hands raised in triumph.

The nurses rush in. He tries to explain what is going on. Through his excitement and accomplishment he feels the rush of numbness of the pain meds taking away his pain, and triumph, feeling them pull him into sleep.

“Did you like my surprise?” Victor asks flirtatiously, at his fiancé, who had just woken up the day after his triumph.

“The blue roses?” Yuuri said with a small smile. He looks exhausted, purple circles obvious under his eyes. If the banquet wasn’t that night, Victor would have wondered if he had missed out on another fun time with Yuuri, but no, it looked like Yuri and Yuuri had gone on an adventure after their respective gold and silver medals. At least from Victor’s stalking on Instagram.

“Yes, did you like them, my Yuuri?”

Yuuri smiled and reached out to touch the screen. “I loved them.”

Victor misses that touch meant for him.

“We will have to celebrate.”

Yuuri laughs. “Oh, I know what I want as my prize.” He purrs to Victor.

Victor heart leaps. That same strange flutter as going into a hard jump you don’t know if you are going to land.

He laughs breathlessly back.

“What do you think of Hatestu in the Spring?” Yuuri smiles, a faint blush spreading.

Victor feels elation fill him. “Marry me by the cherry blossoms?”

“Yes, if you will have me.” Yuuri grins, the same small grin he had when he had held out the silver metal years ago with a heart shaped ribbon.

Victor’s eyes and smiles are too big for words, he couldn’t stop them if he tried. “Of course, my Yuuri. Of course, I will. Great! Wow!”

Yuuri just smiles, real and wide, his eyes closing with the happiness overflowing in his heart.

oOo

Chris is rocking his leg whilst sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, and Victor wants to viciously kick him with his good leg, but on the other side, Yuuri is laying right next to him, head propped up with Victor’s many pillows. His fingers play with Victor’s own. There is the smell of champagne as Yuri pops open the bottle too loudly, cork flying into the hospital ceiling.

Mila pours out the glasses and hands them out. Victor doesn’t want to stop touching Yuuri, and so takes the glass with his other hand.

“To new beginnings…” Chris raises his glass.

Everyone murmurs the sentiment.

Chris and Yuuri are going to announce their retirements tomorrow at the press conference. Mila and Yuri are already sniping at each other playfully.

And the marriage next spring has people already planning their trips to Japan.

Victor smiles and kisses Yuuri’s hand.

It was the beginning of a new chapter.


End file.
